


Barriers

by ImpishTubist



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Language, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Chakotay have a long overdue conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> A missing scene from the end of “Caretaker” that takes place between Tom being given his field commission and Janeway’s final speech on the bridge.

In the aftermath of the destruction of _Valjean_ , the Maquis were given an empty cabin on deck two to use in order to shower and change their uniforms, and even replicate a meal or drink in semi-privacy. Over the next several hours, they would be assigned to various quarters around the ship, but the captain had been kind enough to realize that Chakotay’s people probably were craving a hot meal and a shower just as much as her own were at this point.

 

She would be addressing the crew as a whole at 2100, but they already knew what she was going to say. The Maquis would be absorbed into the _Voyager_ crew, and they were going to have to be Starfleet officers for the rest of their time in this quadrant.

 

Seventy-five years. Chakotay knew it was likely he would live that long, human life spans being upward of one hundred and fifty years or more, but what kind of a life would that be serving the organization that had turned its back on his planet and his people? And when he returned to the Alpha Quadrant at the age of one hundred and fifteen, what then? The Cardassians might still have his planet, his mother would be long gone, and the cause he had sworn to devote the rest of his life to might be an ancient memory in the minds of the Federation.

 

“Chief?” B’Elanna’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he gave her a wan smile.

 

“Gold looks good on you,” he said. He fingered the rank bar at her collar - a symbol of their provisional commissions. “Lieutenant.”

 

B’Elanna swallowed hard, and then nodded at the head. “Shower’s all yours, Chakotay.”

 

He nodded, and she left. The rest of his people had cleared out already, and he was now alone in the cabin. Chakotay went over to the table in the corner of the living room, where the last uniform - his - had been laid out. He brushed a hand over the red-and-black fabric, and then his fingers drifted to his rank bar.

 

“Well, would you look at that.”

 

He hadn’t heard Tom Paris come in, but he wasn’t surprised the man was here.

 

“Look at what?” Chakotay asked.

 

“You have a price after all.”

 

Chakotay turned around. Tom smirked, but there was steel behind his eyes.

 

“You sold out your people for a rank bar on your neck,” Tom said. He crossed the distance between them. “Now, that doesn’t at all sound like the Chakotay I knew.”

 

“The Chakotay you knew got tired of having blood on his hands,” Chakotay said tightly.

 

“You now, there was a time when absolutely nothing would have come before your people,” Tom said. He trailed a hand down Chakotay’s chest. “Not the Federation, not Starfleet, not Cardassian civilians… not even me.”

 

Chakotay grabbed the wandering hand before it went too low, wrapping his fingers tight around Tom’s wrist.

 

“And you traded it all because a woman you’ve only known for a day put you in your place,” Tom said in a low voice. “Is that what you like, Chakotay? Being told what to do? You helped her give up any hope of us getting home because you suddenly liked the idea of being Janeway’s lapdog.”

 

It was all Chakotay could do not to strike Tom. In all honesty, that was probably what Tom wanted. That was how he handled the feelings he didn’t know how to deal with - he lashed out, looking for a fight.

 

“That’s your captain you’re talking about,” Chakotay said through gritted teeth. “Watch what you say.”

 

“The captain considers my father a friend,” Tom said coldly. “And anyone who considers Admiral Paris a friend is not someone I trust.”

 

Chakotay released Tom’s hand, but Tom didn’t step away. He rubbed his wrist absently and said, “Now, why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Your life belongs to me? Cute, really, but cut the crap. So I hauled your ass off a bridge suspended hundreds of feet above the ground. You’re too proud to actually admit that you’re standing here right now because of me, and certainly not to the captain like that. So what game are you playing this time, Chakotay?”

 

“It’s not a game,” Chakotay said. “As long as I’m alive, and on this ship, you are safe. I meant what I said to you, and I meant what I said to her.”

 

Tom frowned, a genuine emotion crossing his face for the first time - confusion. “Why?”

 

Chakotay licked dry lips. “Because I couldn’t protect you the last time.”

 

Something flashed in Tom’s eyes - anger, perhaps, or an unbidden memory of the failed raid that had led to his capture and arrest. He spun on his heel without a word and made to leave, but Chakotay grabbed him by the elbow and turned him around again.

 

“No,” he said. “No more running.”

 

“Speak for yourself, _Chief_ ,” Tom spat. “Running’s all you were ever good at.”

 

Chakotay shoved him backwards a step, until Tom hit the nearby wall, and kissed him.

 

Three years had been too long, Chakotay thought as Tom’s lips parted easily under his own. The first brush of Tom’s tongue against his own was electric. Tom moaned when Chakotay sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and that was enough to send his blood rushing south.

 

Hands fumbled as clothing was removed. Chakotay’s tunic was more complicated than Tom’s uniform top, and Tom was shirtless by the time he finally got to the final layer of Chakotay’s Maquis leathers. His hands were shaking, Chakotay noticed, and it took him a couple of extra seconds to work the shirt over Chakotay’s head. Chakotay ran a hand across Tom’s flushed chest and kissed him again.

 

They stumbled into the bedroom, kicking off their shoes as they went, and Tom hit the mattress with the backs of his knees before tumbling onto the bed. Chakotay followed, crawling on top of him, deftly undoing the fastenings of Tom’s trousers before pushing them off his hips. Tom kicked his trousers away while Chakotay shed his own, too impatient to wait for Tom to do it. And then he shoved Tom down flat on his back and captured his mouth again, pressing their hips together and rocking gently against Tom.

 

Tom groaned against his mouth and angled his hips so that their fabric-clad erections brushed together. Chakotay had to swallow a whimper - not entirely successfully - and broke the kiss so he could focus on rolling his hips in time with Tom’s, pressure building behind his navel. Tom was panting against his cheek, and the occasional hitch in his breath told Chakotay he was close.

 

“Don’t - what are you -” Tom grabbed for him as Chakotay shifted so that he could reach over to the bedside table and open a drawer.

 

“Relax, Flyboy,” Chakotay muttered. His hand closed around a bottle of lube, and he held it up so that Tom could see. “Thank the Spirits for Starfleet’s standard-issue bedroom supplies.”

 

“Oh, fuck,” Tom said in a low voice, and Chakotay chuckled before kissing him again.

 

“This what you want?” he murmured in Tom’s ear.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Tom groaned.

 

Their underwear joined the clothing strewn about the floor, and Tom rolled over onto his stomach, shoving his arms under the pillows and arching his hips as his erection brushed against the mattress. Chakotay worked him open with slick fingers, more to make Tom squirm than anything else. Tom was trying desperately not to fuck himself on Chakotay’s fingers or reach down and touch himself. He was trying to hold out for as long as possible.

 

“Please -” Tom groaned. “I - just there - _oh_.”

 

He gave a broken cry when Chakotay finally entered him, almost a sob of relief. Chakotay rocked against him slowly, working his way in, and when he was buried up to his balls he lay across Tom’s back and kissed the shell of his ear.

 

“Hands, Flyboy,” he murmured quietly, his voice less than steady, and Tom unclenched the death grip he had had on the sheets. Chakotay covered Tom’s hands with his own, lacing their fingers together, and started to move.

 

“Oh, _jesusfuckingchrist_ ,” Tom said in one long rush of breath as Chakotay pulled out and then rocked back into him. He repeated the movement, slowly picking up speed, pressing Tom’s hands down against the mattress as he moved.

 

Tom’s back and Chakotay’s chest were slick with sweat, and Chakotay could feel droplets forming at the base of his neck and trickling down his spine. Their bodies slid together easily. Chakotay ducked his head and pressed his lips to Tom’s spine, tasting salt. He sat back slightly and changed the angle of his thrusts, and Tom yelped as Chakotay brushed his prostate. He clenched around Chakotay, and for a moment Chakotay’s mind went blank. There was nothing but heat and friction and _Tom_.

 

Chakotay snapped his hips, pounding relentlessly into Tom, and broken words spilled from Tom’s lips with every thrust. He had pulled one hand away from Chakotay’s and worked it underneath himself, and when he came, he bit the pillow in order to muffle his cry.

 

It was too much, both knowing that Tom had come apart beneath him and feeling him reach climax, his entire body tensing and engulfing Chakotay in tight, wet heat. Chakotay’s orgasm washed over him half a dozen thrusts later, the heat coiling tight and then spilling outward, into Tom.

 

“Fuck,” Tom panted when Chakotay pulled out and then collapsed next to him on the bed. “That was - _fuck_.”

 

“Good observation,” Chakotay said breathlessly. Tom wiped his hand on the sheets and then reached out to pull Chakotay closer. They kissed, and then Tom rested his head on Chakotay’s shoulder.

 

“Now you really do need a shower,” he said when he’d gotten his breath back. Chakotay laughed.

 

“So do you,” he pointed out. He tweaked Tom’s nose. “Join me?”

 

Tom’s eyes lit up, but then he grimaced. “In a minute. Christ, Chakotay, I’m not going to be able to sit right for days.”

 

“And I’m going to enjoy watching that,” Chakotay said with a smirk. “I’ve got the best seat on the bridge.”

 

Eventually, Tom managed to drag himself off to the shower, and Chakotay bundled up the sheets and put them in the ‘fresher before joining him. The shower started off with the best of intentions, most because they were both already starting to feel the ache, but soon enough the heat worked its way into their heads and their sore muscles.

 

Tom pushed Chakotay against one of the tile walls and went down on his knees, taking Chakotay into his mouth in one easy movement. Chakotay groaned and tipped his head back against the wall, muscle memory taking over as he rocked into Tom’s mouth. Tom’s hands were tight on his thighs, and he hummed cheerfully around Chakotay’s cock while he sucked, teasing the underside with his tongue. Chakotay was able to hold out for longer than he expected, but he lost control when Tom took him deep, the back of his cock touching the back of Tom’s throat. He tapped Tom’s forehead as a warning, but Tom moved his hands to Chakotay’s hips to keep him still and let Chakotay come down his throat.

 

“That was new,” Chakotay managed as Tom got to his feet. He turned his head to face the warm spray of the shower and  opened his mouth, gargling and swallowing before he turned to face Chakotay with a grin. Then again, being in the Maquis hadn’t really presented opportunities for shower sex.

 

“Wanted to see if you tasted the same,” Tom said. He pressed their bodies together and leaned in for a kiss, his own erection trapped between their stomachs. Chakotay reached between them allowed Tom to thrust into his hand. Tom pressed his face into the side of Chakotay’s neck, rolling his hips in time with Chakotay’s strokes, and he came with a soft groan.

 

They dried off and changed in silence. Chakotay put his old Maquis leathers in the ‘fresher and pulled on the new uniform. Tom gathered his scattered clothing from around the borrowed cabin and dressed again, looking just as presentable as when he had first walked in. The cabin itself had been put back to rights, except for the missing sheets on the bed. No one was going to question it, though. Given the day that they all had just had, it was understandable that some of them had some frustrations that needed to be worked out.

 

Tom picked up Chakotay’s rank bar from the table and gestured for him to look up. Chakotay did so, and he swallowed hard as Tom attached the rank to the collar of his uniform.

 

“Commander,” Tom said. “It looks good on you.”

 

He pulled down the collar of Chakotay’s uniform and smirked suddenly, his fingers brushing a mark he must have sucked into Chakotay’s skin in the shower. “And so does this.”

 

Tom adjusted Chakotay’s collar again and stepped back. Chakotay could feel the change in the room; the barriers going up between them once again. Maquis leader and follower. Commander and lieutenant. So seldom on equal ground.

 

“See you on the bridge, Lieutenant,” Chakotay said. Tom nodded.

 

“See you around, Commander.”

 


End file.
